


constant

by call_me_steve



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Batman and Robin (2009), Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Death Traps, Dick Grayson Feels, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, but damian disagrees, dick thinks that he's not that great, i guess, they both get one no worries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_steve/pseuds/call_me_steve
Summary: They're tied down to Una Nemo's drill death trap, three minutes away from having a hole torn into their foreheads, when Damian decides,If it means Grayson doesn’t die, so be it.He pushes the chair forward, and pushes himself towards certain death.(Dick doesn't approve of Damian and his attempted self-sacrifice.)
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 310





	constant

**Author's Note:**

> also hot off the press. if you can't tell, i've been reading Batman and Robin (2009). the whole plot comes from issues #17-19, from that comic, so,,, spoilers?? for that?? maybe?? yeah. 
> 
> feel free to comment, or kudo, or bookmark. i like the attention lol.
> 
> (tumblr: [@potato-reblob](https://potato-reblob.tumblr.com/))

Damian stares up at the drill that’s about to dig a hole into his skull, and he decides, _if it means Grayson doesn’t die, so be it._

He takes in the threat before him as Nemo explains how the chairs work. If either one of them pushes back, they’ll subsequently send the other to an early grave. Damian snarks back about how he _could_ just mock her and send himself hurtling forward, and he’s certain that Grayson only hears it as a quip. They both understand that there’s no way either one of them will shove themselves away from the drill, even with the three minute warning pressing down on them. 

They’ve worked with tighter time restraints, Damian knows. 

“No fear from this little soldier!” Nemo coos, and as she continues her monologue, Grayson says, “We’ll never tell you our secret identities.” 

It’s clearly not about the identities. It’s not about the people under the mask, it’s about something far greater that Damian doesn’t really understand quite yet. What he _does_ understand is the seriousness of the situation. He understands that- with this drill bit only inches from his forehead- it’s either _Batman_ who dies…

Or it’s _Robin._

For a moment, he can’t help but wonder if Mother will be able to fix him, with a gaping hole in his skull. Will she be able to patch him back up, if his brains are turned to a slushie? 

Will she even care? 

There’s always the possibility that she won’t- She’ll hear about Damian and shrug it off. She’ll just turn to the blasted _clone_ she’s constructed of him, and she’ll mold him in the same way she never was able to mold Damian. Years down the line, Damian might just look down at a younger version of _himself._

Well, he _might,_ if he survives this. 

Behind his back, his hands get to work carefully cutting through the rope on his wrists. Once he breaks through them, he’s not sure how much mobility he’ll have- what, with all of the ropes keeping his entire body pressed against the chair- but it’s the best chance they have. 

Grayson sounds like he’s getting panicked, as he tries to spit out whatever it is that Nemo might want to hear. Damian’s not sure if what he’s saying _is_ the right thing, but Grayson’s always- admittedly- been good with people. He’s been good at parties, however much he may loathe them, and he’s been good with _Damian._

That’s why Damian can’t allow Grayson- and by extent, _Batman-_ to die here and now. 

“I won’t push back,” Damian says, drill bit too close to their skulls. He’s stalling, he knows it, but he doesn’t know _why._ The longer he draws this out, the closer _Grayson_ gets to dying. “Not even as a reflex.” 

He won’t. 

Grayson bites back with something Damian can’t hear over the roar of adrenaline in his ears. He doesn’t want those to be his last words, he doesn’t want them to be something that Grayson takes as _snark-_ but there’s no easy way to say, _I’m sorry, Grayson, but everything that you’ve done for me- I’m-_

He’s wasting time. 

Damian takes in a deep breath and digs his heels into the floor behind him, and with all of his might, he shoves himself forward. 

White hot _pain_ flashes through his entire body, and he barely has any time to _scream_ as it overloads him and his brain- and Grayson _yells,_ but it’s not in pain, it’s a sharp and panicked _Robin-!-_ and-

And the drill bits burst, the drills themselves reeling back. 

Whatever it was that Grayson had finished saying to Nemo, she replies by saying, _That’s not all I am._ She walks over to Damian, brushing off shards from the drill. “The drill bits were paper-mache,” she says, but it does nothing to quell the pounding in Damian’s skull and the adrenaline begging his body to _do something._ He starts back at it with the sharpened blade in his hands, hoping to break his bonds. “You’ve actually surprised me, Boy Wonder.” 

The bonds break. 

He burns away Grayson’s and tries to ignore the screaming in his head, because while it _might_ have been paper-mache, Damian had no _cowl_ to protect his skull. Once they’re both free, they leap up from their seats. Damian makes to charge at Nemo, but Grayson throws a hand in front of him and stops him. 

A bead of bright red blood drips from Damian’s head. He knows that it can’t be terrible, nothing a bandage can’t fix. It’s nothing worse than skin deep. 

His head _rings_ and he wants so badly to sit back down and pretend like he knows how to breathe. 

“You looked for a typical super villain,” she grins, too much like a shark for Damian’s comfort, “you found the _absence_ of one.”

He’s not sure what she’s _saying,_ but it’s grating on his nerves. When she lets out a laugh, he can’t stop himself from surging forward and swinging a batarang at her. Grayson calls for him to stop- 

Nemo catches it, tossing it to the side as if it’d been nothing more than a _pen._ Her lips keep moving, and Grayson shoves Damian behind him again, shielding him with his shoulder. As she continues on about something Damian can’t register, she pulls out a gun on them. Grayson stares her down as if _daring_ her to pull the trigger-

She pulls it on herself, and the resulting _bang!_ is so loud, not even _Damian_ misses it. Grayson rushes to the window with a hearty gasp, choking out, “I can’t _see-_ there’s no _sign_ of her-” 

Within a moment, they’re rushing for the door and slipping down the stairs. Damian’s body _screams_ at him to _stop,_ and he almost decides to when his foot nearly gives out beneath him. He ends up stumbling down that flight before picking up the pace, watching as Grayson says _screw it_ and just launches himself down the last two flights. As much as Damian would like to follow suit, he can’t bring himself to.

He ends up bursting from the building moments after Grayson, rolling out to a calm street. Cars zoom by, taxis roll to a stop at the light up ahead. There’s a man on the phone, saying, _I’ll be home soon, sweetheart, it’s been a long day._ There’s a mother, holding the hand of her daughter, who’s happily licking away at an ice cream cone, saying, _I think Daddy might want some ice cream too, don’t you think?_

It’s all too _calm._

There’s not a single corpse on the ground- only Batman and Robin standing in the middle of a sea of people, feeling like a dynamic _duo_ of _fools._

The feeling coils up in Damian’s gut and makes its way up his throat, as the pounding in his head roars back for a second wave. His adrenaline is already fading as he breathes hard through his nose, trying to stay upright- But he fears that if he doesn’t sit down or pass out, he’ll throw up whatever it was that he’d had for lunch. 

“Batman?” he tries, voice feeling ever so far away. 

Grayson’s not looking at him. Grayson’s shoulders are _tense,_ as tense as a bow string, and his head is cast down. Damian doesn’t know _why,_ he doesn’t know what’s wrong- it’s possible that he’s just upset over Nemo, over not being able to find her body. 

But- this seems _worse_ than simple _anger._

Damian doesn’t understand it, just like he doesn’t understand _Nemo,_ just as he hasn’t understood much of anything this whole night besides the inherent _need_ to save Grayson. 

He pushes back every feeling he has, including the horrible confusion and shame that festers inside of him, including all of the pain that’s clouding his body, and locks them deep down inside of him. He adopts his _al Ghul_ persona just long enough to get him to the cave. The al Ghul’s don’t feel pain or emotions, besides greed and want and _desire._

When Grayson levels his grapple gun towards the sky, Damian follows. Without a word, they head to the bunker, swinging for the heart of the city. 

Red flies from Damian’s forehead, and he finds he doesn’t care. 

* * *

When they get to the bunker, Damian makes a beeline for the computer chair. He collapses into it far too heavily, feeling exhaustion pull at every inch of his body. He’s _surprised_ that he’s still alive and breathing- had it not been for Nemo’s lack of desire to kill them like any normal Gotham villain has, Damian would’ve been nothing more than a bleeding hole in the dead center of his forehead. 

Grayson takes some time before he makes his way up to meet Damian, and by the time he finally trails up, Damian’s already pressed a bandage to his forehead and cleaned away the blood. 

He’d been right- it’s nothing more than a break in the skin. The headache must’ve been caused by the shock of it, both emotional and physical. It’s still there, subdued by the passing of time and the fear of whatever it is that Grayson has to say. 

Damian’s already got the computer booted up, _Una Nemo_ and her profile up on it’s screen, it’s blue light clashing with the green and yellow hues of the smaller monitors. He’s glaring at it, when Grayson drapes himself over the back of the chair, still playing at his silence act. It’s not quite the cold shoulder. Not yet. 

They call Pennyworth down and glare at the screen, before Damian even _attempts_ to say something. 

“When we were in that death trap,” he hazards, “you didn’t push backwards.” 

He certainly should have, Damian thinks. Had Damian not pushed forward, the drill would’ve gotten to Grayson first, even without either of them moving their seats. While the threat of it already seems dulled, now that they know the drills were nothing more than blatant fakes- it doesn’t mean it’d been any less _dangerous._ Grayson _could’ve_ gotten killed. He _should’ve_ pushed back- Gotham needs Batman more than Robin, and the _world_ needs Dick Grayson more than _Damian Wayne._

“When we were in that death trap,” Grayson echoes, tone cold, “you pushed _forwards._ ” 

Whether it be on purpose, or not, Damian bursts out with an, “I _had_ to! Had I _not,_ you could’ve been _killed!_ ” 

“We _both_ would have been killed, together,” Grayson points out. “But _you_ decided that it was more worth it to get yourself killed instead. For _no reason,_ you pushed yourself forward when you were sure that it’d get you killed.” 

“It _wasn’t_ for no reason!” Damian cries, frustration boiling. Instead of elaborating more, he only repeats, “You could’ve been _killed!_ ”, and promptly feels like a child. Grayson stares at him like he doesn’t really understand, stares like it wouldn’t _matter_ if he died. Damian wants to beat it into him, and _make_ him understand, because he’s not sure if he knows enough words to really get it _through_ to him. “Gotham _needs_ a Batman!” 

“Gotham has _Batmen,_ ” Grayson responds. His tone does a complete one-eighty, turning into something much more calm. He doesn’t sound upset, anymore. “And _Bruce_ is back, Damian.” 

But- doesn’t he think that Damian _knows_ that? Damian _knows_ that there’s others. He knows that Father is finally back, even if it might not feel like it- but Grayson _is_ Batman. Grayson is the only Batman Damian needs to think of, so why can’t he just _understand-_

“Oh.” 

Grayson rounds the chair on light feet, placing himself in front of Damian like he’s done time and time again. “You were worried for me,” he says, as he crouches, taking Damian’s hands in his. “And I don’t think you know that _I_ was worried for _you._ ” 

No, Damian _hadn’t._ Why would Grayson need to be-?

“You- You didn’t have to do that, Damian. I’d like it if you didn’t, actually. You’re not supposed to _sacrifice yourself_ for Batman.” 

“I didn’t _do_ it for Batman,” Damian finally bursts. His anger completely bubbles over, like water and steam pouring out of a boiling pot of water settled on the stove. “I did it for _you!_ ” 

Grayson blinks, and asks, “For- For _Dick Grayson?_ ” 

“Who _else?!”_

Dick Grayson will _always_ mean more to Damian than _Batman and Robin._ It makes him want to _scream_ that Grayson doesn’t understand that. Damian doesn’t think he can ever bring himself to say it, either. Not out loud. Not to Grayson. 

In a flash, Grayson surges forward and plucks Damian from his seat. He pulls Damian into his arms and holds him, far too tightly for Damian’s liking. All of the fight and anger and _confusion_ bleeds from Damian’s body. Instead, he only feels overwhelmingly tired again. 

“Again, Damian, it’s not- it’s not your _job_ to put yourself on the line for me. Both as Robin, and as my _little brother._ I really don’t like that you’d ever think that _your life_ means far less than _mine_ when it comes down to it. If _anything-_ If anything, I’d rather it be _me_ who dies, than _you._ Every time. I’m the _older brother_ here. It’s my job to worry after you, to take _care_ of you and ensure that you’re _safe._

“If today _hadn’t_ been paper-mache- If it had been a _real_ super villain hellbent on _killing_ us, I could’ve _lost you._ You really think- even with Bruce back- that I could’ve dealt with losing _you too?_ ” 

“You think that _I_ could lose _you_ either?” Damian replies, settling his forehead on Grayson’s shoulder. Grayson sways him like he’s nothing but a little baby, and Damian doesn’t want him to stop. “Losing Father- it was _bad._ But it wasn’t the _worst-_ I didn’t _know him._ Not like you, or Drake, or Pennyworth.” 

“But?” 

“If I lost _you_ after everything we’ve went through together-” 

He can’t bring himself to finish, but he knows that Grayson understands completely. 

“I’m sorry, Dames,” he whispers. “I- I’d tell you, now, that it’s _amazing_ what Brue made here. He’s made a Batman who _enjoys_ the thrill of being expendable-” -Damian wants to say that Grayson isn’t _expendable,_ say that he never _has been-_ “-and a _Robin_ who’s willing to _die_ for the cause- But- _God,_ Damian. I don’t want to ever _lose_ you. Not for Gotham. Not for _me,_ even if I am just _Dick Grayson.”_

Damian wraps his arms around Grayson and squeezes tight. “You act as though _Richard Grayson_ isn’t something to be proud of.” 

“Maybe it’s not,” he says, quiet. 

“Well- I- I think it is,” Damian utters. “There isn’t _anyone_ that I’d rather die for, than you- Batman or _no_ Batman.” 

He doesn’t hear Grayson’s soft, _that’s what I’m afraid of,_ but- But it hangs in the air and suffocates them both all the same. They _can’t_ lose each other, even if it comes down to Batman or Robin. 

Even if it comes down to Batman and Robin, or Dick and Damian. 

(The world has constants. Damian only prays that they’re one of them.) 


End file.
